The Red Mist, The Red Mistress
by MsFeliciaCresent
Summary: Jacklynn Porter, Captain Of The Red Mistress, strong, noble, independent... and mostly drunk. Jacklynn gets thrown into a series of completely coincidental events as she is torn between one mans obsession and another mans affection. Not everything is always a laugh, as Capt. Porter soon finds out.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters and settings (apart from my OC's) belong to whoever the hell made the movies. Congrats to you lucky bastards.

* * *

"_You're avoiding the question."_

"_Yes."_

"_Why?"_

"_Why not." _

"_You have to answer to me, don't fight this Jacklynn…. Jacklynn? Jacklynn? JACKLYNN." _

* * *

"Oi! Jacklynn! Jacklynn! Get ya' lazy arse outta' bed."

My eyes slowly creaked open to see a butch bearded man towering over the bed. The faint odour of rum and whisky invaded my nostrils as I threw a tattooed arm over my eyes to shield them from an offending ray of sunlight that had managed to split its way past the half-tattered curtain strung up in my quarters.

_Not a pleasant sight this early in the morn._

"Address me like that again, Skald, and you'll be kissing it, savvy?"

My voice cracked slightly from obviously a lot of singing the night before and when I managed to clamber out of bed, the gentle rocking of my ship reminded me where I was after what was now clearly obvious, an intense night of drinking. I grabbed my normal clothes and boots that my right hand man (and temporary helper seeing as my last one was shot in a crossfire on Tortuga, _shame, smart man_) held out as i tiredly walked behind my screen to change, yawning on the way.

"Awfally' sorry, mam, it just we 'it Port Royal in a few minutes. Ya' know how those stuff shirts get abaat' signing in and stuf'."

I cursed as I tried to pull on my left boot, knocking a few glasses and empty bottles over as I almost landed flat on my arse in the process.

"Any idea what we're here for again?"

The ruffling of fabric and curses stopped as I stepped out again, fully clothed and dignified (I hoped). I stared blankly at Skald for a long moment when he didn't answer and I could almost see the spark trying to ignite as he tried to recall what the 'Lord' wanted before he responded.

"Ya' were invited by tha' Lord to oversee somfin' abaat' a 'art I fink'."

"…'art'? Ugh. You mean heart…wait… what heart?"

I swept a few pieces of paper and various junk off of my desk with my forearm and finally found my weapons belt and strapped it to my waist, it hanging slightly off of the right side of my hip as the weight of my cutlass weighed it down.

"Is it that bloke who ya' forced to marry next week because ya' smacked that rum bottle over 'is daughta's head because she called ya' a tad bit overweight?"

I threw some of my bed covers about and clambered under the bed a couple of times, coughing and spluttering as I realised it may of not be the most hygienic of ships before trying to remember what Skald just asked and answering.

"No, Skald, I think I killed him a year ago and blamed it on a small group of elder whores…where's my hat?"

I took a quick shot of whiskey as I waited for him to get the cogs working again, wincing as the piss-coloured drink burned the back of my throat.

"On ya' head?"

I rolled my eyes and slapped him on the back of his bald cranium as I grabbed the hat in question off one of the side cabinets and opened the door to exit into the land of the living.

_Well, semi-living, have you seen some of my crew?_

Skald was a brilliant right hand man when it came to ruffling a few feathers, but you'd never actually use those words because he'd assume you wanted him to wrestle a few pigeons.

The brightness of a Monday morning coupled with the feeling of slight nausea and a headache hit me with the force of a sledgehammer, causing me to stumble a few steps before i straightened and walked my ship. It was nothing fancy, though not too cheap.

_The Red Mistress. _

The name came from the previous Captain, a woman no less, who had a terrible temper and every time she lost it, her crew would call it the falling of 'the red mist' which clouds her vision. My personal crew decided to keep the name, as I too had an awful temper (and attention span) shooting the previous Captain after I killed her dog in an accident. Tragic affair.

After a few of my crew said their morning greetings, I walked across the planks onto the docks where one of my crew was arguing with one of the stuffed shirts already. I sighed and approached said stuff shirt and crew member carefully, last time leading to getting shot in the arse. Literally.

"Ah' told ya' mate, there expected 'er! Just take tha' money an' get on wiv' it."

"I'm afraid I cannot sir, without a valid signature from the Captain himself I cannot verify you words."

He pushed his glasses a little up his nose and I saw the skinny crew member next to him get a little more pissed off.

"Nah' listen, mate, imma' bout' to rip ya' johnny off' and use it as a flippin' skippin' rope in a minute now gimme' tha' damn book!"

I felt this as an appropriate to don my hat and interrupt the conversation.

"Easy, friend, as fun as that may be I think now would not be an appropriate time." I lowered my voice and glared at him. "_Lest we have a repeat of last time."_

I managed to keep the "because last time I got shot in the arse you prick!" out of the conversation as I turned back to the Dock manager.

"Apologies madam, we seldom see female Captains."

"Well ya' a stereotypical bastard den', ay' ya'!"

I glared at my crew member, who I seem to recall was named Bones (probably because of his near skeleton like look, _why did I hire him again?_).

"I'm pretty sure you don't even know what that word means, my friend, so get your arse on the ship and try to refrain Skald from throwing pebbles at seagulls again and Dee from bedding other sea captains, you know how she gets. Cheers."

Bones huffed and puffed as he trod away and I signed the book that the rather confused and scared Dock manager held out. I patted him the back as I walked away, which he visibly jumped at before he quickly scurried away himself.

I walked along the streets of Port Royal with my hands in my pockets and my hat pulled a little over my eyes. I wasn't exactly popular amongst folk here. Not since the chicken farmer incident. To be honest, it wasn't my favorite place in the world, to be quite frank, it was my least favorite. It lacked the flavour and enthusiasm Tortuga or other pirate docks had. No whores, hardly any pubs, no gambling, no-

I was thrown out of thoughts as I roughly bumped into someone, a flash of white and blue blurred my vision as I almost went falling to the ground, but managed to stabilize myself (somehow) on a carriage. I apologized to the carriage driver and almost pulled my pistol out but when I turned around, the man in question talked first.

"Sorry madam i-"

I raised my eyebrow as he stopped and seemed to recognise me.

_Did I know him? Crap, even worse, did I owe him money? A favour? Oh god._

"Your Capt. Porter correct? Lord Beckett is waiting to speak with you by the gallows."

"He certainly picks his choice of places."

The man in front let out a gentle laugh as he held out his hand, almost hesitantly, and introduced himself. I accepted his hand and shook it, and he looked surprised as I did so quite roughly. Obviously not used to women shaking hands like a Scottish log thrower.

"Please to meet you Admiral Norrington, if you'll please excuse me I must see Lord Bendit straight away."

The man let out another sharp laugh again and smiled sweetly.

_Did I just use 'sweetly'? Ugh. Hangovers._

"It's Beckett, and I advise you don't try to make that mistake in his presence. I don't think he'll find it as funny."

"Right. Thanks for the heads up. See you later Admiral Torrington."

I did an exaggerated curtsy before I strutted away as I heard him laugh again as I made my way towards the gallows, almost tripping over some blokes chickens.

As I neared my destination I was met with the surprising sound of beggars singing. It was both pleasant and grim at the same time. Chains rattled and men and women sang their hearts with pride.

_Now _this _is what I want to see more of. Too much grimness nowadays. Not enough singing. And drinking. Definitely not enough drinking. Never enough-_

For what I was pretty sure was almost the third (or second?) time this morning, I almost collided with yet another person, if it wasn't for his voice breaking my steps and my thoughts.

"Ah, the very woman I want to see. Not one for punctuality are you?"

I stopped dead in my tracks and raised my eyebrows and stared at the sun, squinting, trying to work out what time it was.

"It's 10:30am. You were meant to meet me at 9? It does not matter, please, walk with me a moment."

I frowned but obliged and walked with him across the edges of the Fort where men stood vigilant, obviously more so ever since the raid a while ago.

He talked about various subjects, mainly about the fortifications of the Fort and the readiness of the men now; that they're more than prepared if the worse was to happen. My mind drifted off very quickly simply going "umhum" or "yes" or "really?" every now and again. He stopped suddenly and he said something, his voice was very smooth, and very confident. The kind of voice you use when you've got a-

"I have a plan." He turned around and stared at me as I tried to work out whether his last few words before that were of any importance. "We obviously have the heart in our possession, but what we need is someone to keep an eye on it at all times, lest Jones find a way to wriggle out of our little agreement."

"Ok, well, where do I come in? You have it safe on your ship, simply use one of your men. I'm not needed."

"No!" Beckett replied a little too quickly to be comfortable and losing his posture for a second too. He obviously realized what he did and quickly straightened placing his hands behind his back.

"O…k. Well…what do you propose?"

"That you board the Flying Dutchman along with a handful of my men, Admiral Norrington and my right hand Mercer to guard the ship at all times."

I let out a short sharp laugh that was often described as very throaty, and threw my head back, before catching his eyes and realising that he was… entirely serious.

"Wait… you can't be serious. Why me?"

"Because you've been described as one of the best." He took a step closer (once again, too close to be comfortable) and whispered in my ear in a very low voice. "Unless you want the entire of Port Royal to come crashing down on you, your crew and your beloved pirate ship "The Red Mistress". You want the ship to be more than splinters, then you help me. Deal?"

He held out his hand to shake, and i did, almost wrenching his arms off in the process to his surprise.

I growled lowly. I hated being in the weaker position. I grated on my skin not being able to do anything.

He straightened himself once again and preened imaginary dust off of himself.

"Besides, I hear you have a history with anyway, might be nice to catch-up with old friends."

My eyes shot from the floor to glare at him, my dark green eyes boring into his light blue ones. He shifted uncomfortably under my stare, frowning.

"You have no idea."

* * *

**A/N: I know, i know, i'm going to hell. My dearest apologies to those STILL waiting for my other updates, but i watched Pirates Of The Caribbean the other day and have just immediately felt the urge to write something for it. Those stories with the most attention get the quickest updates will be my new law. Love you all.** **_-FC. _**


	2. Chapter 2

"_What's the point?"_

"_My only point is at the end of the cutlass, watch your mouth."_

"_Empty words, aren't they?"_

"_Hmph. From an empty Captain."_

* * *

"Well, I 'eard, tha' she once killed two men wiv' one shot."

"I 'eard it was 5?"

"You can't count to 5, mate."

"Can too!"

"There ya' go, you've already got to tha' second numba'."

"Can it you two, I 'finks I 'ere her comin'."

I strutted up the planks to board my ship, already seeing that the sails and masts were all ready to go, and the crew eager to see what news I had.

_How on the gods watery earth was I meant to tell them this. Half of them can't tell their face cheeks from their arse cheeks and the other half are too piss drunk to even walk straight._

"'Ere she is! Oi, Captain, was it 2 or 5 men that ya' killed?"

I sighed and leaned against the side of the deck rubbing my temples as the crew started arguing meaninglessly, my closest friend on the ship, Dee, hopelessly trying to break the arguing up.

"I believe it was 6."

A very posh voice broke through the squabbling and caused most of my crew to stop in their tracks and reach for their weapons. I turned around and soon (not too soon) recognized who it was, raising an eyebrow and wondering why he was here.

"Ah, Admiral Norrington, to what do we owe the pleasure?" I said rather tiredly, holding my hand up to signal the crew to be at ease as I made way for the Admiral to board the ship. If I had been a suspicious woman, I would say that he was somewhat nervous and anxious.

"Yes, well, it seems that-"

"Oh spit it out, mate, we don't have all day, ya' know."

"Yeah, gotta' leave for Tortuga-"

A bullet shot rang heavily through the air as a limp body fell to the ground.

"Ok, let's get this straight, ladies and gentlemen," I started to pace around the crew members, pistol still in hand, the smoke eradiating off of it silencing the crew immediately. "It was actually 4 with one shot, I have very short patience, you never mention where we are going when there is a none crew member aboard the ship and-"

"Lord Beckett wishes to speak with ye' right away, Capt. Porter."

"-WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?"

I pointed my pistol directly towards the source of an unrecognisable voice to find that another man boarded the ship, slick black hair with a lot of confidence in his step, scars evident on his face.

"That would be Mercer, the man in which we are boarding the Flying Dutchman with." The Admiral assured me, enough that I lower my weapon, but not place it back in its holster.

There was a short silence as before there was a lot of mumbling between my crew, not as much as I would have expected, but then again, who would after a man had just been shot.

"Aye, and Lord Beckett does not like to be kept waiting."

He was really calm, too calm. Obviously a right hand to Mr. Beckett himself, no-one carries themselves with that much pride and distinction apart from a Lords right hand man. Dee should know, she bloody-well bedded enough of them.

"O.k. Well… Just give me some time to explain to my crew-"

"He demands to see you now."

"He'll "see me" when I damn well decide to!"

We took a step towards each other until noses almost touching, as I felt the almost comforting bubble of anger rising in my chest as we continued to stare each other down. The crews mumbling had immediately ceased. The grip on my pistol tightened increased considerably as his coal black eyes seemed a lot more intimidating up close. Luckily, before anything rash could have been done, Norrington's voice broke through the tension.

"Please, Mercer, I'll escort the Captain to the Endeavour personally, just allow her a few moments to say her goodbyes."

"Goodbyes?" I murmured to myself.

"Very well. It's your head, Admiral, not mine."

Mercer gave one last glare towards me, before shooting off again. There was another tense pause before I spoke, breathing beforehand deeply, trying to resist shooting something.

"Thank you Admiral… If you'll please," I gestured towards the exit of the boat, hoping for a bit of privacy for my next words.

"Of course, mi 'lady."

He nodded, and gave a weak smile before leaving the ship, looking like he couldn't leave quick enough.

I clambered on one of the boxes as he left to give myself and my voice some extra leverage, knowing most of my crew were pretty much deaf.

"Alright, listen up you bottom feeders. I'm to leave for the Endeavour, that bigger boat on the other side of the port, and pretty soon after that, the Flying Dutchman, the other bigger boat, to protect… something or another. So listen very carefully, I would ask some of you to read my lips, but I'm pretty sure you can't read, so hear me. As soon as that boat leaves this port, I want you on my tail, not so close you're practically up my arse, just close enough that we don't see your scrawny hides. And any of you touch my whiskey collection and I'll use your tongue to scrub the decks, clear?"

There was a roar of cheers as I stepped down and walked away from the crowd to the side, rather confused as to why they were actually cheering.

As the men were too busy cheering over… something, I beckoned one of my old friends (I think), Arcon. A blind old man, though he has probably seen more than me in my short lifetime, with a peculiar bird on his shoulder, that bit me once, the bastard. I lowered my voice, enough so he could here, not loud enough so everyone on the bloomin' port could here though.

"Alright, I want you and that Hawke of yours to keep a special eye out, no offence, I wouldn't trust this lot with a barrel of apples let alone a full ship and crew. You're in charge now, savvy?"

There was a pause before he answered.

"What should I do if one of them argues with me?"

...

"Shoot them."

I went to make a quick exit, but Arcon grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear, whilst pressing something in my hand.

"_The gates to salvation." _

_What._

I looked at my hand and saw a rather rusted, once golden, locket. I raised my eyebrows, but said my thanks anyway, putting the necklace around my neck before making my way off ship.

To my surprise, I saw Admiral Norrington waiting at the end of the docks, his arms folded neatly behind his back as he smiled at me. For once in my life, I felt rather uncomfortable, and a little self-conscious, but managed to keep the confidence and assurance in my step (somehow).

"You… waited for me?"

"Of course, the first steps on the Endeavour can always be a little intimidating."

My eyebrows furrowed together.

"You do know it's not my first time on a ship, right?"

We started walking together along the length of the docks, another thing I felt extremely out of place with.

"Of course, I don't doubt your ability as a…"

"Pirate? Just say it darling, I'm exactly going to shun the truth."

I could see him blush as he neared a little and increased his step, lowering his voice.

"Yes, but others here won't take so kindly to the thought of a pirate on the docks so do put on your airs and graces please."

"I'll show you airs and graces."

It was one of those moments were my mouth had spoken my mind, unintentionally (or so I keep telling myself). I mentally cringed and prayed that he didn't notice the tone in which I said it. (Sultry at best.)

I chanced a glance at him, and I had never seen a man blush so much in my entire life. Curiosity also had occupied my mind as I wondered how far I could push this before it was borderline sexual harassment.

"Something a matter, Admiral?" My voice once again took a rather devious tone.

_I had to find some sort of entertainment._

I tried my best not to snicker or laugh as I heard him try his best to form a sentence, but all that came out was incoherent words and letters, before he finally managed to string two words together.

"We're… here."

I let out a short laugh as he gestured for me to walk on the planks to board the ship.

"_Oh such a gentlemen." _I thought sarcastically. To be quite frank, it was actually refreshing. "_Oi lass, nice arse," _loses its novelty after the first time.

As I boarded I was met with a very nice view of… 8 cocked and loaded guns pointed directly at me.

_Oh dear._

My hand went straight to the pistol at my left thigh, and my other went right to the cutlass at my waist, not daring enough to withdraw either of them.

"Wow, you really roll out the red carpet don't you." I murmured to no-one, my eyes scanning frantically for an escape route.

Before I could chance a risky jump over the side, the Admiral stood in front of me, his arms out, his voice almost frantic.

"Stand down! She has permission to be aboard this ship by Lord Beckett's orders!"

The gun men glanced at each other uncomfortably, lowering their guns a little, as one of them plucked up the courage to speak.

"He allowed… a pirate aboard?"

I'm not fond of the term Pirate, I prefer 'Rogue Sailor'." I tried stepping forward, though the guns shot straight back up, causing me to pause in my tracks.

There was almost uproar on the ship, all the soldiers arguing with each other about the safety of themselves and what the Lord was thinking.

"Glorify it how you want, Jacklynn, your still a pirate to no ends."

I looked towards the source of the voice, and found no other than Beckett stepping out from his cabin, he strode with an uncanny confidence as signalled for his men to lower their weapons, all of them immediately shutting up as they stood to attention.

"I trust you'll be co-operative during our voyage for the Flying Dutchman. I am also to understand you've had experience aboard the vessel, no?"

I almost growled at the name, visions springing back. I could almost smell the burning flesh and wood reviving memories I had long since hoped to forget. I knew my eyes were glassing up, as my mouth was pressed in a thin line.

"Ah, I see you do." He grinned, well smirked, as he strode towards me. "Then perhaps this time you won't make a foolish deal you cannot keep, consider it your lesson learnt."

I tried to launch myself towards him, several arms, including Norrington's, keeping me restrained as I flailed helplessly. He did nothing but let out a hollow laugh.

"Feisty one, aren't we?"

He smirked once more, something other than humour hiding behind his irises as he walked back inside his cabin, but not before ordering his men to set sail immediately. Once he was of my sight, it was a while before I finally calmed down. Once I did, the men let me go (very hesitantly). It was too late to leave the boat, and by the time I had managed to calm down, we were too far out for me to jump overboard and swim back to the docks.

I let out a frustrated sigh as I shoved one of the crew men out of my way (almost sending himself overboard) as I made my way to the point of the ship. My hands gripped the two sides of the boat with a white knuckle grip.

"Are you ok?"

A soft voice pierced the silence, belonging to no other than the Admiral, breaking my thoughts and almost my sanity. A deep conversation was something I did not want nor needed. Ever.

"Can I shoot you in the arse and then ask you the same question?" I growled, not dare taking my eyes off of the seas, its gentle rhythm and sound soothing my thoughts as I continued to breathe deeply.

"If you don't mind me asking-"

"Yes I do."

It was his turn to let out a frustrated sigh. I could hear his footsteps pace a little before he stopped.

"You know, I was a pirate for a while."

I rolled my eyes.

"I find that hard to believe."

"I was aboard Captain Jack Sparrow's ship."

My eyebrows shot up.

"I especially find that hard to believe."

I turned around in bewilderment to find him leaning against the side of the ship, smirking at me, (which if I swallowed my pride and dignity) I would note as very attractive.

"Oh yes. I was the one who found the heart in the first place."

He folded his arms and looked very pleased with himself.

_I didn't even need to compliment him for him to get cocky._

"Oh? And you wouldn't have anything to do with the reason why I'm here, would you?"

"Actually, no. You were here by Beckett's orders, that was no lie."

_Why is everyone saying that?_

"Really? I asked him myself why I was here, but I doubt it was just because I had a tad bit of 'experience' with… Davy Jones."

The name still burns the back of my throat as i swallowed.

"Nobody here knows. He could have picked any pirate or sailor with equal experience with the seas but he chose you."

"Are you complaining?"

"Not at all."

I let out a low chuckle and smirked at him, and saw him fidget a little under my gaze. I might have even had tested his words if it wasn't for the slick, black haired, scarface, whats-his-face interrupting.

"Lord Beckett requests your presence, once you control your temper, that is."

"If he can control his mouth."

I said a quick goodbye before following Mercer, noting how my new 'companion' looked a little sad as I left him.

"You've got to be the first Pirate aboard this ship who wasn't shot immediately on sight."

_Great._

"I'm trusting there has been many?"

"Only one has been notorious in his escape, and Lord Beckett was not best pleased."

_Ka-ching… finally something interesting._

As we reached the inside doors to no other than Lord Becketts office, I asked one more question. Perhaps the answer could be something I could use to my advantage.

"And who was this?"

"Never you mind."

Mercer was very quick with his reply, opening the doors and signalling for me to enter, with a smug expression upon his face.

_Bastard._


	3. Chapter 3

"_Why must you continue to fight this?"_

"_Why do you insist on arguing?"_

"_You've turned your back on everything you have ever believed in; and everyone."_

"_A person who wants to lead the orchestra must turn their backs upon crowd."_

* * *

_What on earth-_

As I stared around, I was met with nothing but gold lining, fine furniture and… shiny things. Lots of them. This was every thieves dream. I could steal 100 gold's worth of furniture from this very room and I'm pretty sure that no-one would notice. Fine mahogany desks, golden globes, massive maps and broad cabinets filled with bland requisition orders and warrants, chandeliers and fine carpets; all without a single speck of dust. The solid smell of wood and aristocracy made me crinkle my nose as I found myself a tad bit envious; on my ship the germs and dust were more common than the booze and whores, and they were common.

The feeling of a sudden light-weightiness knocked me out of my trance as I quickly glanced behind me to find Mercer had removed both my weapons belt and the holster strapped around my thigh. He gave them to a standing officer, and he handled them like they were about to explode as he ran off. Feeling a little molested as to how Mercer had managed to remove both of my personal items without my realising it, I barely heard a voice.

"Beautiful ship is it not?"

My head whipped back in front of me, to find Beckett playing with a quill in his hands, flicking it about a few times, before placing it on the desk on front of him in which he was sat. He lent back on his chair and stared me in the eye, crossing his one leg over the other with the ghost of a smirk in the corner of his lips. He gestured both me and Mercer over to stand in front.

"Golden lining, oak and mahogany desks, tall strong masts, and an obnoxiously pretentious crew… you insult me dear sir."

He stared me in the eye, looking for…something I guess. Whether it was a subtle challenge, or just wondering what colour my eyes were, I couldn't tell. He let a puff off air before turning to his right hand man, and they started conversing in a hushed manner. I could hear them fine, but I didn't choose to listen, to be honest, I rarely did.

I immediately zoned out, taking in the room, and perhaps a window I could jump out of if need be. I felt a tad nervous as I stood out like a… pirate in a lord's cabin. Everyone else in here was wearing fine clothes and neatly trimmed wigs, freshly shaven and walked with an air of grace. I stared at my own clothes in disdain as they were o.k, but worn. The boots were scuffed so that they were more grey than black, the waistcoat I wore had started to become uncomfortably tight to the point where I didn't bother with all but one button and my hair was barely held together in a loose plait at the back of my head. My face was almost clean, not a beautifully clear complexion like so many bragged, but clean enough to be fairly respectable. Not like you'd find any here. It was really crowded though, buzzing with activity as a sea of white wigs sauntered about with their noses so high in the air that I was pretty sure they'd have Rudolph's nose from it scraping across the ceiling too much.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Mercer throw something on the desk, though at first I paid no attention to it. It was only when Lord Beckett's hand came down like a sledgehammer to claim it did I turn and look (after I almost jumped).

"A piece of 8." He stated simply, whilst twiddling the piece of metal around in his fingers. "Nine of them you say?"

If I was a dog my ears would have perked up straight away. Beckett's light voice lowered slightly, catching my full attention (which was very rare) though not realising it (I hoped).

"Our dear friend in Singapore was very specific about that, sir. _9_ pieces of 8."

"What's the significance of that I wonder…"

He continued to play about with the coin before looking up at me, frowning slightly as he looked me up and down.

"You're a pirate are you not?"

I inwardly groaned. I couldn't remember why I hated Port Royal so much before, but now it was slowly coming back to me, in pint size, pain in the arse, pieces.

"…so I've been told."

"What do you know about this?"

He threw the coin at me unexpectedly and with a string of curses and fumbling, I caught it. Mercer only rolled his eyes tiredly as I examined the piece myself.

I wasn't fully stupid. I damn well knew about the 9 pieces of 8 and the summoning of the Brethren Court. Vaguely. I was heavily drunk when I was told and could barely walk, but my ears worked, and I knew that the 9 pieces of 8 symbolized something and freed… something. I was part of the Brethren court at one point, me and that French bloke didn't exactly… play nicely. I kind of shot his wife.

"Well…-"I began, but was interrupted abruptly much to Beckett's annoyance, and my glee.

"Does it matter? There's nothing that can hold against the Armada, especially with the Flying Dutchman at the lead-"

Mercer began to grin, and it was slightly off putting, the kind of smile some sort of stereotypical master villain did after he just kicked a puppy or something.

"Nothing we know of."

Now Mercer had the face of said kicked puppy; and it was hard to laugh at, but not impossible if I had tried.

"Did your friend happen to mention where the Brethren Court were meeting?"

"He was mull on that, sir."

"Hm, then he knows the value of information…" Again, the lord of the EITC stared at me, as if I was some sort of mechanical puzzle waiting to be solved by a wandering explorer from a destined land. Which was _bullshit_, because buy me a few drinks and you could have my life story out of me in a matter of minutes. "Don't suppose you have an idea as to the whereabouts?"

I meagrely shrugged my shoulders, feeling a little inadequate. All I knew was that they were meeting at a … Cove. No use in telling him that though, there were thousands of Coves around the Caribbean.

"Best keep this to ourselves, then." He glanced over our shoulders at someone behind us. "We don't want anyone running off to Singapore, do we?" Instinctively, I and Mercer both glanced behind us and saw… wait. I know him. Wanneby. Woggabe. Webbabe. Weatherby. Weatherby Swann. That's it. The governor if I remember rightly. (Which I rarely do.) What is the governor doing here? Last time I talked with him was… on the gallows as I was almost sentenced to death for robbing his daughter. Oh.

_To be honest, Port Royal wasn't and still isn't doing a lot for me and my wellbeing. _

"Ah, Admiral." Beckett's voice resumed its normal tone as he beckoned no-other than Admiral Norrington in.

"You summoned me, Lord Beckett." He rocked back on his heels a little with a tone of distaste in his voice like a petulant teenager about to be told off. I know, because I use it all the damn time. He glanced towards me and a flash of a small smile flew across his face before he resumed his frosty posterior.

"Yes. Something for you there. Your new station deserves an old friend."

I turned and stared with mild curiosity as Beckett gestured towards a long case sitting on one of the posh counters to the right of the door. The Admiral seemed somewhat hesitant at first, only eyeing the box as if it might be rigged to blow. He stared between Beckett and Mercer before his eye line landed on me, his eyes almost… accusing.

I felt a tad insulted, frowning a little as I met his stare. As if I knew how to rig a barrel of TNT; I struggle to get my damn shoes without knocking crap over in the morning. He opened the box with care, and though I had to crane my neck to see it, he withdrew from the case a somewhat beautiful sword, golden handle and fine steel blade. A weapon made by a very careful blacksmith, a present no doubt. Once again envy surged up my spine as I remembered my own cutlass, haggard and scratched from plenty of use and probably older than I was.

"The Brethren Court know they face extinction. All that remains is where they make their final stand."

Beckett's voice broke through my staring as I turned around to see him glaring at me with a look of… no. Really? My face remained dead pan though inside I was grinning like a loon.

_Envy? He was staring at me with... envy? PAH…why? Because he thought I was staring at the Admiral? _

"Shall we summon the Flying Dutchman?"

Mercer voice piped up after a rather awkward amount of time, breaking the tension.

"No. We'll more than likely run into Jones tomorrow. In the meantime, _Jacklynn_, you can take residence in the _Admirals_ quarters for now since you two seem to be getting along."

The word Admiral sounded patronizing, with a large dose of venomous hatred. I looked at Beckett's snarky expression with a half-angry/half-questioning look and he only gestured for me to leave as if I was some boring guest. I didn't have the will nor energy to argue or come up with something offensive and racial hating so that I could have a quick death instead of endure time on an East India Trading Company vessel. I only shot a half-hearted glare at the Lord before parting.

As I managed to find my way outside (by following some white wigged chap trying not to look stalker-like) I looked across the ocean to see the sun setting, bathing both the ship, sea and remaining crew on the decks in a warm orange glow. I walked across to the left side of the ship which was facing the sun, a little calmer and more relaxed. The warm Caribbean breeze swept past my face and a light spray of the sea reminded me why I enjoyed sailing. That was until I heard footsteps approaching and it reminded me why I hated company. Knowing no-one else had the stones to talk to a 'pirate', it could only be one person.

"You come around like a bad habit Norrington."

I turned around and to find the Admiral in question stop in his tracks, like a deer caught in lamp lights. He briefly smiled and chuckled a little as he swept his arms behind his back, walking to the side of me keeping his eyes on the ocean.

"Please, call me James."

"O.k James. Call me Jacklynn if it takes your fancy."

I scratched the back of my neck a little awkwardly as I turned back around.

"Jacklynn…you remind me of a woman I once knew, you know."

_Gods. I've heard that before, and it… didn't end well._

"She was a strong willed woman, proud and capable of anything, and also equally as dangerous. I thought she was one of a kind."

"'Capable of anything?'" I sighed heavily as I turned around, bending over slightly as my forearms rested against the side. "Friend, I am anything but proud or strong willed, I would be a fool not to admit so. But… I respect the effort and appreciate the sentiment."

I stared down into the water with what I knew was a grim expression. I half wanted to tell him about the night… I couldn't. It was something too personal for the time being to explain in detail and it was something I had hoped to forget. It turns out alcohol is a limited brain wiper.

"You look as if you want to confess something."

_Are my expressions become so damn readable? _

"Ugh…I- You want to know why I hate Davy Jones so much?"

I looked up to see him looking down at me with an almost questioningly sympathetic look as he nodded.

"A while ago, I made a deal with him. I know, not my smartest choice, but I don't think I've ever made a 'smart choice'. It… backfired, to say the very least, and it ended with… everything and everyone I ever lov- respected being torn and burned to ash. I managed to escape, barely, though it bore a heavy price. My family, friends and everything I owned now lies at the bottom of a Krakens sodding stomach rotting, and there's not a damn thing I could or can do about it."

I spoke slowly and quietly, breathing deeply before continuing after some words to ease the sense of burning hatred being mauled by searing pain. It felt oddly relieving to get it off of my chest though I felt… vulnerable. It was unsettling and as I looked at the man next to me his mouth gaped and his eyes darted between each one of mine with too much pity for me.

"I… never knew, I'm … sorry. I never meant…"

I waved a hand dismissively as he stumbled over his words.

"It's… it's nothing. I learned my lesson, but I'd give a lot more than my life for a chance at Jones again."

My mouth was pressed in a thin line as I pondered the many ways to make him into sushi before it became animal abuse.

"I know myself what it's like to lose everything I ever loved, too."

"Hmph. If you toured with Jack Sparrow then you probably lost my then I ever will, mate."

He chuckled gently, and offered me a smile, which in turn (after willing my facial muscles to cooperate) I returned.

"You're quite a pleasant woman, you know. If you can get past the terrifying demeanour and brashness, that is. But it's getting late; shall we retire to my quarters?"

I let out a sultry half-laugh, and he soon caught on, blushing furiously and not meeting my stare.

"Lead the way, Romeo." I joked.

I followed him across the ship a bit and we began to descend down some stairs into the bowel of the ship. As we walked past, many men nodded in respect at the sight of the Admiral or simply tipped their hats slightly, though giving me a wide berth. It was understandable to be fair, after I almost tackled one when he smirked at the sight of us, though James managed to stop me before glaring at the cheeky sods' attitude. After weaving our way through many corridors, doorways and crew members he stopped at the end of one corridor with double doors. He held one open for me and gestured for me to enter, acting like a true gentleman again. I wasn't complaining, I could actually get used to it.

"One white-wig says a word to me or gives me another funny stare and I won't be responsible for my actions." I said as I began to walk inside, once again staring in appreciation at the fine decor.

"I'll have your back, don't worry."

I turned around to find James taking of his hat and jacket, hanging them on a nearby hanger before smiling gently at me. I snickered slightly at his previous choice of words.

"I bet."

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for the delay, this chapter was a lot like my hair in the morning, it just didn't f****** work, so i had to re-write it a few times. Enjoy anyway. -FC**


	4. Chapter 4

_A chorus of screams and wails flooded the air. The snapping and crackling of burning wood, combining with the smell of ash and charred flesh made my stomach churn uncomfortably as I sprinted up the stairs, every last one of them seeming bigger than the other. My heart pounded in my throat, and I stopped halfway up, heaving for breath that never came. The gaping wound in my side seeming like a dull ache as I continued my never ending journey. _

"_What are you still doing here?!"_

_My voice seemed weak and feeble compared to the howls of gunshots and cannon fire, splinters flying across my cheeks as I struggled to remain conscious and standing. I could feel my face paling from the blood loss. _

"_I'm not going to leave them!" _

_Auburn hair spun around as the younger woman screamed at me, blood trickling down the side of her face and down her neck, making me panic further._

"_We have no damn choice!" _

_I grabbed her arm, though she immediately ripped it back, picking up her dropped rifle, and regarding me with a stare that made me think I was staring into a mirror. _

"_I thought a Captain always went down with his ship?!"_

"_The circumstances change, we have to leave now!"_

_She remained put, suddenly diving into my arms, hugging me tightly with a crushing grip before whispering in my ear._

"_I love you." _

_I held her at arm's length, tears of worry and pride spiking the corners of my eyes. There was so much I never got to tell her, yet no answer to the never ending questions seemed adequate. _

_I felt a force rip us apart, an explosion. I felt myself flying overboard, my ears drums silencing as I felt the force of the water below, crashing into my back. All the air left my body, along with my consciousness. My vision slowly faded as I felt life and feeling drain out of me._

_Never ending falling._

_And a strange feeling._

* * *

"JACKLYNN?!"

My eyes shot open, and there was a blur of peachy flesh as my head swam with panic. I felt drenched in a cold sweat as my breaths were shallow and quick. I tried to move my arms, but there was no budge as they were being held tightly. My knees, calves and feet could move though my thighs, hips and were chaffing against something, as the smell of… someone else met my nostrils. The dots connected slowly, as I realised I was being… straddled.

I blinked a few more times and my vision finally cleared, and it settled on a pair of eyes boring deeply into my own. The person's breath was laboured and they were panting furiously like they just did battle. They smelled… pleasant. It was something faded and masculine. I tried to move my arms again, but they were firmly pinned down, and my hips were being pushed into the bedding. I felt hot breath upon my cheek which stirred me out my staring, and I was surprised as I recognised the face staring back at me.

_The Admiral?_

"You know, there are pleasanter ways of waking me up." I grunted. It was only when I spoke did I realise how dry and sore my throat was, something only caused from a lot of screaming.

He continued to stare accusingly at me, frowning, but he loosened some of the grip on my wrists and I noted how much they began to ache.

"You're telling me. I don't tend to like it when women wake me up by trying to throttle me to death." There was no humour in his voice, a lot of distrust and anger though, as he continued to loom above me. I squinted and also noticed the fact that he wasn't wearing anything but a pair of trousers. He had a toned body, lithe and tall, more tanned than most and a light spray of dark hair started at his navel and leading down to the waistline of his trousers.

I felt a cold air seep across the room as my temperature returned back to its normal state. I realised the state I must be in, I'm sure he had an ample view from his position. I always slept in trousers and just a breast band, my ship was often being attacked by pirates and sailors alike and when you're being raided and bombarded, you don't really have time to get changed. I was not going to get caught out again. Lucky for him I suppose, though admittedly, I had a rather muscular figure, especially at a staggering height of 6ft. Not so much that I was bulging veins out of my eyeballs, but enough that I didn't exactly have melons for bosoms. I had my hair short once and got mistaken for a man.

"O…k. Well, I apologise. Maybe we can discuss this in a… um… different position? My wrists are starting to chafe."

He didn't move. Time for a different approach.

Managing to free my leg slightly, I connected my knee straight in his daddy bags. He let out a yelp as his hand flew from my wrists and I rolled us over, pinning his hands above his head and pressing my chest into his to keep him secure. He wriggled and flailed, grunting and cursing as I struggled to keep him down, feeling a little awkward at our position. I lost my patience and ended up nutting him, my fore head connecting with the corner of his with a force that seemed to daze him temporarily. I mentally cringed when I saw a light trickle of blood fall from the corner of his eyebrow to his temple and into his hair. I may have taken it a bit father than necessary.

"Now that I have your attention,perhaps you'll now understand that I'm no longer sleeping and I am very aware of the fact. If I release your wrists, i want a truce. I'll try not to strangle you in my sleep and you won't hang me from the nearest mast in the morning." I spoke slowly and clearly as I could as his eyes never left mine. He continued to stare at me accusingly as he pondered the thought for a while before nodding; hopefully realising he wasn't exactly in the position for negotiation.

I let him go slowly, not removing myself from in-between his legs but sitting up so there wasn't as much sexual tension. His fingers lightly skimmed over his cut and he winced, to which I apologised. I got up off of the bed and stood back a little on shaky legs, my head pounding which I was pretty sure was not just the headbutt's fault.

"I suppose I should have mentioned the fact I tend to get night terrors shouldn't've i?" I gingerly scratched the back of my neck as I shifted from one foot to the other.

"That…ugh… would have been helpful." He groaned rolling his head, it cracking slightly as he sat up on his forearms.

I felt a little bad. Guilt wasn't a feeling I was used to or thought I ever needed to possess; the same with friendship. To me it had no meaning; power, gold, knowledge… now that had meaning. It was the only damn thing I was taught from an early age other than to shoot first and ask questions later. Survivals of the fittest, dog eat dog and all that.

But then, times change, and so do people I suppose.

"Stay there."

I noticed a wash cloth on the side and I strode over to get it. After that I walked over to where there was a jug of water and soaked the piece of cloth in it, wringing it out until it was just damp before getting him to sit at the end of the bed before I knelt before him. James looked at me curiously as I swatted his hand away from the cut and pressed the piece of cloth to his forehead with a care that surprised myself. I managed to clean the cut up a little, luckily I only caught him slightly and it was only a little nick. I patted the cloth gently against the side of his temple to clean up any other blood, and I smiled feebly when I noticed him staring into my eyes. It was an intense gaze, and I couldn't tell whether it was mistrust or admiration. I smiled feebly and decided it best to break the ever growing tension.

"I… didn't happen to… scream anything during my little fit there did i?"

Still his eyes never left mine, rendering me uncomfortable again, as he thought of his answer.

"Something about a Penel-… Penelo… Penelo-"

"Penelope?"

I removed the cloth immediately as if it was burning him instead, and regarded him with worried eyes, my heart suddenly in my throat.

"Yes, that was the name, who was she? You seemed content enough to kill me for her."

I placed the bloodied cloth on the floor, and slowly stood on shaky legs, threatening to give way underneath me.

_Oh god Penelope._

My heart felt pained. I barely managed to keep the dry sobs from escaping my throat as I sat on the bed next to him. I did just try to strangle a man over a woman long since dead; I suppose I deserve him an explanation at the very least.

"Penelope is…" I took a deep breath and swallowed. "-_was_ my daughter."

The words seemed so foreign to my ears, the voice so quiet. I almost couldn't hear myself. The words belonged to the long dead mother I had hoped to forget, drown in alcohol, and bury and never have to see again. You could say I'm a shadow of my former self. Though to my eyes, she died with her daughter. The way it should have been.

"Gods… I never expected you…"

"To what, re-produce?" I chuckled silently. "She was my only daughter. A lovely girl; auburn hair, bright green eyes, ivory skin, a real gem. A pain in the arse at times... a lot like her mother I suppose."

He smiled gently, and I looked to my right, lest he see the burning tears brimming my eyelids. I blinked furiously, and I noticed the dim light outside. It must have been about 6:00am. I felt an odd sensation, warmth on my left shoulder blade and I turned and noticed he had placed a hand upon it. I regarded him with an odd look and raised an eyebrow. James only smiled, whole heartedly. It was an strange feeling, and I found myself smiling back.

I shook my head furiously and stood up, regretting when I did so to feel my head spin a little.

"We should really get ready. God knows what that little prick requires of me today." I picked my blouse off of the floor and quickly put it on, buttoning it up with shaky hands.

James seemed in a daze temporarily, but then coughed before agreeing and he set off into his room to change himself.

I let out a long sigh once the door into the next room clinked shut, regarding myself with a tired expression in the large mirror that hung above a set of chester draws. I looked like I had been in a fight. Dark bags lay below my eyes which were now pigmented with a light pink colour. I had sharp, thin features anyway, but they looked gaunt and horrible. I resembled something that a mother would warn their children about to get them to sleep at night. Realising that looking into the mirror was far too depressing, I finished placing my clothes, boots and hat back on. I looked in the mirror once more, though I looked no better clothed than I did half-naked. There was a knock at the door beside me and I shouted for whoever it was to enter.

A smallish chap walked in, pale sickly complexion and a slight lazy eye. He obviously wasn't a sailing man, or maybe he was just scared of me.

"L-lord Beckett… wishes for you to d-dine with him this m-morning."

And a stutter aswell, seems like one of my ex-husbands, though red never suited his eye-

"What?!" I bark, and to my never ending surprise he flinches and seems to step backwards into the doorway.

"His… o-orders, m'am."

With that he almost runs out of the door, a little trail of smoke following in his wake.

This morning just goes from bad to worse.

* * *

**A/N:**** Wow. If you're still reading this, i am really surprised. You're probably like 50 years older with a bad heart condition but here's the next chapter nonetheless. More to come.**


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